Sleep came fitfully to Ravak that night. He couldn't recall any specific dream, but that smell permeated into them. He woke each time sniffing like he had a cold. Violence lingered in the air. By the time rays of sunshine shone through the Avendesora leaves, only the memory remained. He had risen with the dawn's light, rinsing his mouth out furiously to get the layer of filth off his tongue. He left the discarded clothes from last night in a pile, his concern about an inspection outweighed by the thoughts of yesterday. Only slightly relieved from the feel of a fresh uniform, he wrapped the black scarf around his mouth and neck before leaving his quarters.
Katrie
Anger, when it finally did come, was tinged with panic.
Almond shaped dark eyes returned to the empty place next to her, the stone bench somehow seeming both larger and longer now that her folder stuffed fat with papers and drawings was missing. The urge to chase after the man that had committed the act was strong, but she couldn’t remember his face… and she was certain he was long since gone by now. Indecision rooted her to the spot, making her turn in place several times as she rechecked the smooth ground beneath the bench, the pretty Cairhienin biting back a curse as the worn leather folder didn’t somehow miraculously reappear.
Stupid, stupid girl.
A quick smile, a snatch of conversation, and Katrie had been distracted by some kind of songbird as it landed on a bush near her foot. That had apparently been enough for… whoever that man was, to take what was not his. She doubted he would know what her drawings meant, as rudimentary as they were, but what if someone else did? Pages of rough sketches interspersed with meticulous depictions of coloured lines and patterns… some diagrams… That innocuous folder held the total sum of all the saidar residues she had seen since her arrival at the Tower years ago. It wasn’t meant for anyone but her.
And now that man, that total stranger, had them all.
Katrie spun on her heel, letting the nub of charcoal she had been using slip through her fingers. Heedless of the smears, she wiped her hands on the pristine white sides of her Novice dress and took off after the man in the general direction she guessed him to go.
Ravak
Almond shaped dark eyes returned to the empty place next to her, the stone bench somehow seeming both larger and longer now that her folder stuffed fat with papers and drawings was missing. The urge to chase after the man that had committed the act was strong, but she couldn’t remember his face… and she was certain he was long since gone by now. Indecision rooted her to the spot, making her turn in place several times as she rechecked the smooth ground beneath the bench, the pretty Cairhienin biting back a curse as the worn leather folder didn’t somehow miraculously reappear.
Stupid, stupid girl.
A quick smile, a snatch of conversation, and Katrie had been distracted by some kind of songbird as it landed on a bush near her foot. That had apparently been enough for… whoever that man was, to take what was not his. She doubted he would know what her drawings meant, as rudimentary as they were, but what if someone else did? Pages of rough sketches interspersed with meticulous depictions of coloured lines and patterns… some diagrams… That innocuous folder held the total sum of all the saidar residues she had seen since her arrival at the Tower years ago. It wasn’t meant for anyone but her.
And now that man, that total stranger, had them all.
Katrie spun on her heel, letting the nub of charcoal she had been using slip through her fingers. Heedless of the smears, she wiped her hands on the pristine white sides of her Novice dress and took off after the man in the general direction she guessed him to go.
Looking haggard, the red-haired Shienaran found himself in the Gardens. His feet had moved him swiftly beyond the Warders' Yard and its accompanying stench, around the stronghold that was the Grey Tower. Here, the air was sweet-scented. Rav caught hints of jasmine and roses, but something else was evident from its absence. The air smelt of peace. He rubbed at his scalp thoughtfully, skin flaking off like snow. How can you smell peace and violence? There was a simple truth he was trying to ignore, an answer that scratched at his consciousness.
Rav barely noticed another man passing him by on the stone path, face unfamiliar but clearly Taraboner. He wasn't dressed in either the grey of the Warders' Yard, nor the black of the Soldiers or Dedicated. It wasn't that, nor the way he seemed to jump at the presence of the Drin, that drew Rav's attention. It was the smell. Not any normal smell, like tilled soil or freshly cut grass. It was that other type of smell, akin to the Warders' Yard. Yet compared to that, the man smelt clean... but wanton. Rav could discern the man’s desire in the air, thick and palpable.
The man took a wide berth around the Shienaran, clearly weary of the scowl that dominated Rav’s face. That scowl moved straight onto the man as Rav stopped. “Excuse me-” That was all he got out, before the heavy quick crunching of stones made its way along the path, conducted by the Taraboner.
Rav considered the man’s response in a heartbeat. Running, in general, was not tolerated within the Tower grounds. He assumed it was because it was undignified, and Aes Sedai and Asha’man were anything but. Attire put questions of Asha’man or Gaidar, whatever the rank, out of frame. So then who was he, and why was he running? The latter Rav knew, even as he forced himself to deny it. The man had committed a crime. His right hand went for his sword-breaker and came up short. Both that and his longsword were on his desk; his quarterstaff was propped up in the corner of his quarters. No weapons. That wasn’t quite true, of course. All aspiring Gaidin had to learn how to fight unarmed, and a brown-haired Seanchan had taught him just that.
A heartbeat passed, and Ravak was running down the path, heedless of the statutes and protocols that governed Drin’far’ji. Only a handful of yards separated the Shienaran and the Taraboner, and those were closed quickly. Arms swinging from side to side, Rav pulled his right fist back as his left cracked into the back of the man’s head. Legs buckled, and the Taraboner skidded to a painful halt. He groaned half-heartedly, sounding dazed. As he fell, he had coiled up, as if to cradle something close to his chest. With a jerk, Rav rolled the man onto his front. The face that stared back was surprised and mousy, with a few red gashes from the ground underneath. Embraced in those arms was a battered leather folder, pieces of parchment sticking out in a clutter. Even from a brief glance, Rav recognised enough to know it was channellers’ business.
“I don’t think that belongs to you, somehow.” Ravak’s bluely-eyed glare was none too kind.
Katrie
Rav barely noticed another man passing him by on the stone path, face unfamiliar but clearly Taraboner. He wasn't dressed in either the grey of the Warders' Yard, nor the black of the Soldiers or Dedicated. It wasn't that, nor the way he seemed to jump at the presence of the Drin, that drew Rav's attention. It was the smell. Not any normal smell, like tilled soil or freshly cut grass. It was that other type of smell, akin to the Warders' Yard. Yet compared to that, the man smelt clean... but wanton. Rav could discern the man’s desire in the air, thick and palpable.
The man took a wide berth around the Shienaran, clearly weary of the scowl that dominated Rav’s face. That scowl moved straight onto the man as Rav stopped. “Excuse me-” That was all he got out, before the heavy quick crunching of stones made its way along the path, conducted by the Taraboner.
Rav considered the man’s response in a heartbeat. Running, in general, was not tolerated within the Tower grounds. He assumed it was because it was undignified, and Aes Sedai and Asha’man were anything but. Attire put questions of Asha’man or Gaidar, whatever the rank, out of frame. So then who was he, and why was he running? The latter Rav knew, even as he forced himself to deny it. The man had committed a crime. His right hand went for his sword-breaker and came up short. Both that and his longsword were on his desk; his quarterstaff was propped up in the corner of his quarters. No weapons. That wasn’t quite true, of course. All aspiring Gaidin had to learn how to fight unarmed, and a brown-haired Seanchan had taught him just that.
A heartbeat passed, and Ravak was running down the path, heedless of the statutes and protocols that governed Drin’far’ji. Only a handful of yards separated the Shienaran and the Taraboner, and those were closed quickly. Arms swinging from side to side, Rav pulled his right fist back as his left cracked into the back of the man’s head. Legs buckled, and the Taraboner skidded to a painful halt. He groaned half-heartedly, sounding dazed. As he fell, he had coiled up, as if to cradle something close to his chest. With a jerk, Rav rolled the man onto his front. The face that stared back was surprised and mousy, with a few red gashes from the ground underneath. Embraced in those arms was a battered leather folder, pieces of parchment sticking out in a clutter. Even from a brief glance, Rav recognised enough to know it was channellers’ business.
“I don’t think that belongs to you, somehow.” Ravak’s bluely-eyed glare was none too kind.
Keenly aware of what was expected of Novices and what would happen if she was caught sprinting through the gardens, Katrie found herself caught between an awkward half-run, half-walk. Why had she decided to take her folder outside? It should have stayed in her rooms, tucked away and safe. Her teeth ground together in annoyance and she stretched her stride to the utmost, finding that - for once - her height was something to be looked upon positively.
The gravel path crunched beneath the soles of her thin shoes as she hurried forward as quickly as she could. She peered into shaded alcoves and perfectly manicured recesses, hoping to find a glimpse of the man, some flash of out of place colour of clothing. Nothing. They all turned up empty. The more she passed, the more agitated she became. Fingers twisted at the fabric of her skirts, the fine coat of black powder marring the blinding white with curled streaks of grey. Finally, unable to cope with the anxiety that churned in her gut, Katrie abandoned all sense of caution and allowed herself the freedom to simply run.
For a time, it seemed as if her feet pounded against the ground with the same rhythm as her rapid heartbeat, the Cairhienin Novice abruptly transported back to the brief time in her childhood when she had been permitted to run and climb trees under the indulgent watch of her mama. The strange moment ended when she felt her foot come down hard against a particularly sharp rock, the pain jarring her roughly back into the present. Anger came again, the hot wave of emotion cresting high enough to bury everything else.
There came… a loud noise somewhere ahead of her. The distinct sound of something large hitting the gravel accompanied by the noise of small stones scraping against themselves was impossible to mistake. Her brow furrowed, but her pace did not falter. She didn’t know if it meant she was close… or even on the right path… but for the sake of her anxiety, she chose to believe that meant she was and continued on forward.
What she saw when she rounded the bend was something she had not prepared herself for, and it was only by some miracle of the Light that she didn’t end up tripping over the hem of her Novice dress. Two men, one familiar, one… not. The familiar one was crouched over the one not. Her shoes skidded over the path, forming fresh gouges and tracks as she forced herself to stop. Momentum and loose gravel carried her forward, the very tips of her feet bumping into the prone figure of the not familiar man on the ground, her gaze automatically going to find blue-grey eyes.
“Rav?” Incredulity made her voice higher and sharper than usual, dark brows lifting. The Shienaran Drin seemed as surprised as she was, his hand hovering and extended as if he was reaching for something. Almond shaped dark eyes followed, Katrie’s surprise turning into outrage as the familiar sight of her folder leapt out at her. Her mouth dropped open, then quickly snapped shut as her brows lowered.
“Hey! That’s mine!” she exclaimed, glaring down at the mousey looking man, miserable on the ground at her feet. “You stole it!” She shoved one foot forward, pressing the tip of her shoe directly into the man’s ribs. She was rewarded with a wince and a groan. Briefly, she wondered if she should actually kick him, but decided that was not something a Novice should do.
“I hope you hit him really hard,” she muttered under her breath so only Rav would hear her. Katrie then busied herself with taking back her folder from the unknown man.
Ravak
The gravel path crunched beneath the soles of her thin shoes as she hurried forward as quickly as she could. She peered into shaded alcoves and perfectly manicured recesses, hoping to find a glimpse of the man, some flash of out of place colour of clothing. Nothing. They all turned up empty. The more she passed, the more agitated she became. Fingers twisted at the fabric of her skirts, the fine coat of black powder marring the blinding white with curled streaks of grey. Finally, unable to cope with the anxiety that churned in her gut, Katrie abandoned all sense of caution and allowed herself the freedom to simply run.
For a time, it seemed as if her feet pounded against the ground with the same rhythm as her rapid heartbeat, the Cairhienin Novice abruptly transported back to the brief time in her childhood when she had been permitted to run and climb trees under the indulgent watch of her mama. The strange moment ended when she felt her foot come down hard against a particularly sharp rock, the pain jarring her roughly back into the present. Anger came again, the hot wave of emotion cresting high enough to bury everything else.
There came… a loud noise somewhere ahead of her. The distinct sound of something large hitting the gravel accompanied by the noise of small stones scraping against themselves was impossible to mistake. Her brow furrowed, but her pace did not falter. She didn’t know if it meant she was close… or even on the right path… but for the sake of her anxiety, she chose to believe that meant she was and continued on forward.
What she saw when she rounded the bend was something she had not prepared herself for, and it was only by some miracle of the Light that she didn’t end up tripping over the hem of her Novice dress. Two men, one familiar, one… not. The familiar one was crouched over the one not. Her shoes skidded over the path, forming fresh gouges and tracks as she forced herself to stop. Momentum and loose gravel carried her forward, the very tips of her feet bumping into the prone figure of the not familiar man on the ground, her gaze automatically going to find blue-grey eyes.
“Rav?” Incredulity made her voice higher and sharper than usual, dark brows lifting. The Shienaran Drin seemed as surprised as she was, his hand hovering and extended as if he was reaching for something. Almond shaped dark eyes followed, Katrie’s surprise turning into outrage as the familiar sight of her folder leapt out at her. Her mouth dropped open, then quickly snapped shut as her brows lowered.
“Hey! That’s mine!” she exclaimed, glaring down at the mousey looking man, miserable on the ground at her feet. “You stole it!” She shoved one foot forward, pressing the tip of her shoe directly into the man’s ribs. She was rewarded with a wince and a groan. Briefly, she wondered if she should actually kick him, but decided that was not something a Novice should do.
“I hope you hit him really hard,” she muttered under her breath so only Rav would hear her. Katrie then busied herself with taking back her folder from the unknown man.
“Hard enough,” Rav responded just as softly. He flashed something that may have been a grin, if not for the displeasure in his voice. Even as Katrie retrieved her folder, he was pulling the thief up onto his feet. Whether it was the blow to the back of his head, or the hard impact from the stony ground, the Taraboner was completely pliant in Rav’s grasp. He had assumed the Oneness, ready to strike out again if there was any foolhardy attempt to escape.
Even with the Oneness enveloping his emotions and erroneous thoughts, he still turned back to inspect the Novice. Aside from the indignation around her eyes, and some dark marks on her dress, Katrie seemed unhurt. He still asked “Are you injured?”, and received a slight shake of her head and a smile in reply.
Rav spurred the Taraboner onwards out of the Gardens, and towards the Grey Tower. Somewhere he would find a guard or an Aes Sedai or Asha’man to see that justice was administered. No doubt he would have to explain the man’s injuries, and somehow twist the truth slightly. He wasn’t feeling trusting enough to mention his newfound sense of smell to anyone quite yet. Then later, he would have to check on Katrie and see how she was. And decide whether to lie to her too. The Oneness had vanished, replaced by contemplative thoughts.
Even with the Oneness enveloping his emotions and erroneous thoughts, he still turned back to inspect the Novice. Aside from the indignation around her eyes, and some dark marks on her dress, Katrie seemed unhurt. He still asked “Are you injured?”, and received a slight shake of her head and a smile in reply.
Rav spurred the Taraboner onwards out of the Gardens, and towards the Grey Tower. Somewhere he would find a guard or an Aes Sedai or Asha’man to see that justice was administered. No doubt he would have to explain the man’s injuries, and somehow twist the truth slightly. He wasn’t feeling trusting enough to mention his newfound sense of smell to anyone quite yet. Then later, he would have to check on Katrie and see how she was. And decide whether to lie to her too. The Oneness had vanished, replaced by contemplative thoughts.
